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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505188">A Face Mask</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellSchitt/pseuds/WellSchitt'>WellSchitt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(more just dealing with toxic masculinity actually), Banter, Body Image, Fluff, Insecure Patrick, M/M, Makeover, Minor Internalized Homophobia, Wedding Planning, and multiple issues under that category, but mostly Patrick wanting to look good for David, soon to be siblings, very brief sexual innuendo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:48:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellSchitt/pseuds/WellSchitt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want to look good for the wedding,” Patrick blurted out, then cringed. “I mean. Uh. I want David to think I look good.”</p><p>“Ew, Patrick.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes and plowed ahead. “But I'm not good at stuff like this. I mean, I have a moisturizer now, and conditioner. But I still don't do much, uh, grooming."</p><p>"No, I know," Alexis said, matter of fact.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer &amp; Alexis Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>445</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Face Mask</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patrick tapped on the motel door, quietly enough that he didn’t think it would be heard in Mr. and Mrs. Rose’s room.</p><p>“Patrick!” Alexis exclaimed, too loudly. “David’s next door, but umm, word to the wise, you probably shouldn’t-”</p><p>“Oh, no, I know. The Met Gala. David warned me.”</p><p>“It’s just that once he and Mom start the catty fashion commentary, it’s kind of a fire hose? They can’t flip it off right away. So you…” Alexis gave his dark button down and cheap jeans an obvious once-over. “You <em>don’t</em> want to go in there.”</p><p>Patrick raised his eyebrows. Alexis, pointedly, did the same, making Patrick wonder in passing if she’d had half of her natural brow lasered off at some point or if she naturally took after Moira.</p><p>Shaking away the thought of her with David’s eyebrows, he said, “Actually, I’m here to see you. To, um. Ask you for a favor.”</p><p>“Ooo-kay.” Stepping back into the room, she perched lightly on the corner of her bed and patted the mattress beside her. “I think I know what this is about, though, and I should warn you, David’s pretty set on that hideous centerpiece idea. Like, I’ve <em>tried</em>, Patrick, but-”</p><p>“No, nope, it’s not about that.” Christ, he hadn’t seen centerpieces yet. What fresh hell was awaiting him at home tonight?</p><p>Pushing away that thought, too, he moved toward David’s bed before changing his mind. He didn’t want to sit down—if she laughed, he’d rather be able to flee.</p><p>
  <em>Stop it. Jesus, what are you even worried about? That she’s going to think you’re less of a man? Christ, there’s nothing weird about… this. It’s fine.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Anyways, it’s just for one day. One event. Like for Cabaret.</em>
</p><p>He shifted his weight and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.</p><p>“Patrick? Just because I’m not in there obsessing with those lunatics doesn’t mean that I’m not busy? The best and worst dressed lists are already starting to come out."</p><p>“I want to look good for the wedding,” Patrick blurted out, then cringed. “I mean. Uh. I want David to think I look good.”</p><p>“<em>Ew</em>, Patrick.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes and plowed ahead. “But I'm not good at stuff like this. I mean, I have a moisturizer now, and conditioner. But I still don't do much, uh, grooming."</p><p>"No, I know," Alexis said, matter of fact.</p><p>"And David has all these, I don’t know, serums? Sprays. Face masks. Different ones for different seasons, different times of day. I’m always putting some kind of cream on his face for him.” They locked eyes and Patrick knew without a doubt that she, too, had just had the horrifying realization of what Stevie would say to that sentence if she were there. “I meant, rubbing- spreading- <em>applying </em>cream. On his face. Well, and the rest of him. Like the body milk, creams like the body milk!" <em>Oh sweet Jesus, move on. Quickly</em>. "But I don’t know what most of it is supposed to do, really, and it’s all so expensive, and I- I was hoping maybe you could… help me. With that kind of stuff. For the wedding.”</p><p>Mercifully, Alexis chose to ignore his flustered verbal diarrhea. “So… you want me to, like, up your skincare game?”</p><p>“Yes! Yes. David’s skin is…”—<em>perfect—</em> “It’s always really clear, and, um, soft. And… bright? Kind of? And also his hands are” —<em>gorgeous</em>— “nice. And his hair, it's”—<em>sexy as hell</em>—“I don’t know. He just always looks… like <em>that</em>, you know? So I thought I could… for the wedding.” He made an awkward patting kind of motion around his face.</p><p>“Ok, but you do realize that there’s only three weeks left before the wedding, right?”</p><p>“And that’s… not enough time?” Patrick glanced down at his hands, wondering glumly exactly how bad they looked in Alexis’s eyes. He cleaned and trimmed his nails, of course, but he’d never had a manicure or anything.</p><p>“I mean, I’ll do what I can, Patrick,” she replied solemnly. “I guess if I managed to get rid of Megan Fox’s bacne in time for that robot car movie, I can do <em>some</em>thing about this.” She booped his nose on each of the last three words. “But, I’m just saying, a little more warning would have been helpful.”</p><p>Patrick looked at his hands again, frowning.</p><p>Alexis was staring at him, gaze assessing. She stood up, suddenly decisive. “We’ll get you started with some better cleanser and moisturizer tonight, and tomorrow I’ll pick out some products specifically for your skin type. What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”</p><p>“Um. Whatever David puts in my bathroom?”</p><p>She theatrically stopped rustling through a bag she’d pulled from under the bathroom counter. “Oh my god, Patrick. You two have completely different hair types.”</p><p>Patrick was glad he didn’t tell her that he’d thought about skipping her help and just buying himself a set of the exact same bottles and jars David kept in the medicine chest.</p><p>“I didn’t realize <em>David</em> is the brains in the relationship. Wow.” She handed him a collection of packets and a couple of small plastic bottles, most of them samples from his own damn store.</p><p>“Alright, yeah, I get it.” God, he was going to regret this so hard, wasn’t he?</p><p>“Do you at least have some decent concealer?” She ran a thumb under his eye clinically.</p><p>“I do not.”</p><p>“Ooh, that might take a special order. A lot of stores don’t carry shades this pale.”</p><p>“Are you enjoying yourself?”</p><p>“Yes,” Alexis said emphatically. “Come on, they’ll be busy for at least another couple hours. We’ll start with a cleansing mask and a deep conditioner.”</p><p>—</p><p>Three minutes and one brisk face wash later, she was spreading some kind of sticky black goo on his face.</p><p>“This stuff is so good,” she said happily as she finger-painted his forehead. “Like, I hope this whole thing isn’t supposed to be a complete surprise for David, because he will <em>definitely</em> notice your skin looking fabulous after this. Kelly Clarkson recommended it to me. Or, well, her makeup artist did. Which is actually better, now that I think of it?”</p><p>“Is it charcoal?” Rachel had had a face mask made out of charcoal, he remembered. He'd thought that was super weird at the time, but she'd seemed to like it.</p><p>“Oh, sweetie. It’s black orchid and white truffle.”</p><p>He googled the brand surreptitiously as she washed her hands, and learned that that tiny jar had cost $1,600. He had at least $200 worth of goo on his face.</p><p>Worse, Alexis had had to scrape the bottom of the jar to finish applying it. She might never be able to afford more black goo.</p><p>“Thank you, Alexis. I mean it. Thank you for doing this.”</p><p>“Of course, <em>bro</em>,” she said, with a horrible wink. “Now, theoretically, how do you feel about waxing?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another thing that might stay a ficlet or might get another little chapter. Thanks for reading &lt;3</p><p>I liked writing Patrick as the one being trolled for once ☺️</p></blockquote></div></div>
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